


Never brought to mind

by owlaholic68



Series: Noir!AU [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Noir, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: A murder brings Carla to the glittering lights of Vegas. But underneath that glamour is a terrible secret that mixes past trauma with present danger. Will she solve the mystery in time, or will this case stay unsolvable?





	1. Chapter 1

Carla’s coffee is bitter but hot. 

“The new chief is adequately qualified,” Goris says, tapping his fork on the edge of his plate. “But he has neither Marcus’ charm nor his personality.” 

“It’s a good thing y-you-that you’ve got plenty of private cases, C-Carla, because he doesn’t seem to like p-private detectives,” Lenny remarks.

She sips her coffee, nibbling on a bagel. It’s Friday morning, and the three friends are continuing their long tradition of meeting up weekly for breakfast before starting work. She grimaces at the taste of the coffee; she always used to hate the drink, always sticking to tea or hot chocolate. But ever since her eventful case three years ago, she’d become addicted to the drink, appreciating the sharp edge it gave her on her cases. What’s more, it was hot and cheap. 

“I’ll miss Marcus,” she admits. “I know he’s not that far away, but Vegas isn’t exactly a day trip. But I’m happy for him, of course. It’s a huge promotion, one that he rightly deserves.” 

Lenny sighs. “Me too.” 

“It is always possible to go visit him this summer,” Goris suggests, his cheek on his hand, propped up on the plastic table of this cheap diner. The diner may be cheap and small, but they’re great friends with the owner now, having breakfasted here every Friday morning for the last two years. Also, the food was excellent. “Once spring arrives, maybe Len and I can take our vacation days, sometime when you don’t have a case.” 

Carla glances at her watch. “Well, I’m due to head down to the library, and you two need to get going if you don’t want to be late.” 

The phone rings in the diner, shrill. The owner hurries to answer it, chattering into the receiver. Carla puts on her coat and stands. 

“Miss Carla, it’s for you, someone named Lynn!” she calls out, her arm extended with the telephone receiver. 

“Lynn?” Lenny whispers as she walks over. “Who’s that?” 

“No idea.” Carla takes the phone. “Hello, this is Carla.” 

The voice on the other end is low but clear. “Private Detective Carla, I’m sorry to call you so early. My name is Lynn, and I’m with the police here in Vegas.”

“Vegas? Is this-is this about Marcus?” Carla motions Lenny and Goris over. 

“Kind of. He did mention that he knows you. This is, well, Carla, to be honest, this is an odd case. And while Marcus had given it to me first, there’s a clause in the victim’s will that says that if they die under mysterious circumstances, that you are to be the one to investigate.” Lynn pauses, sounds of shuffling paper from the other end. “Victim is named Mark Nann, does that ring any bells?” 

Carla frowns. “No. I don’t even know anyone who lives in Vegas besides Marcus.” 

“We suspected it was a fake name anyways,” she muses. “Listen, whoever this guy is, he knows you. Maybe he just heard of your services and wanted your expertise, or maybe he personally knew you somehow. If it’s the latter, I’ll say in advance that I’m sorry for your loss. But something tells me that that’s not the case. He didn’t have your phone number, hadn’t noted down exactly where you lived, didn’t even have your last name. Just the number for the San Francisco station, which transferred me to here.” 

Another odd case. This gives her a bad feeling, but also an intense sense of curiosity. She waves over her friends. “Did Marcus say that I should bring anyone with me?” 

“No, he says he doesn’t think it will be necessary. He says, here’s his note, he says, we have people here who can help if necessary, don’t make Goris and Lenny skip work to come with you. Marcus also says he doesn’t recognize the victim.” 

Carla sighs. This is too curious of a case to ignore. Plus, she owes Marcus. She’s always happy to work for him. “Alright. I’ll be on my way over.” She checks her watch. “Around five, if traffic is good. Where will I meet you?” A full day of driving, just what she loves doing the most. Lynn gives her directions to the police station, promising that they will go visit the funeral home immediately, since the wake was going to be held at seven o’clock. 

“Well, good luck,” Goris says after she hangs up. “Say hello to Marcus for us.” 

“Call us i-if you need us, C-Carla,” Lenny reminds her, hugging her. “Or just call us, y-you don’t have to h-have a reason.” 

“Thanks. Can you take Dogmeat until I’m back?” 

“Certainly. Stay safe, Carla.” 

Her mind is abuzz with questions the minute she steps into her car, her hands easily turning the key in the ignition, pulling out and turning towards her apartment. She needs to pack and get on the road. 

Who was the victim? Why did they specifically request her? How did they die? It was certainly under the category of “mysterious”, but that’s all she knew at the moment. Why were they using a fake name? Why Vegas? Was this just a coincidence, so close to when Marcus had just transferred to that station? 

Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. Eight hours of driving, and she’ll find out. 

* * *

Because of heavy traffic, Lynn gets to the station right before seven o’clock, and is informed that Detective Lynn was already at the funeral home. 

“Good to see you, Carla,” Marcus says, meeting her in the lobby of the station and giving her a heavy hug. “This is a weird one. Lynn is just as good as you are, and I would have been fine giving her the case, but they specifically asked for you. Hope you’ll figure out why.” 

“Me too. Let’s catch up later, I’ve got to get over there.” 

The funeral home is dark and somber, sprays of dark roses in ceramic vases lining the room. Detective Lynn meets her at the door. The tall woman wearing a gray tweed skirt suit, her heavy winter coat folded over one of the chairs in the lobby. Her short dark red hair is close-cropped and neat, held back by a black ribbon. She’s wearing a pair of thick glasses, the bright green plastic frames bringing out the similar color of her eyes. 

“His friends are here, too,” she says, nodding at Carla and leading her into the visitation room. “Ex-military, the lot of them. They’ve already agreed to talk with the police, but something seems off. I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Thanks for the information.” This detective seems like exactly Carla’s preferred style: straightforward, intelligent, and discreet. “Anything about the body you can tell me?” 

“Not here,” Lynn quietly says as they enter the room, glancing to the side at a group of people standing together, dressed in black. They must the friends of the deceased. “They were able to make the body look alright enough for an open casket, but from the autopsy, his death was violent. Very violent.” 

A child is quietly crying, and several voices are trying to comfort him. Carla winces. The worst thing for these kinds of cases is for a child to be involved. She gives Lynn a questioning eyebrow. 

Lynn sighs sadly. “He had a son, adopted a few years ago. Apparently the kid already had a rough childhood, and this really hit him hard.” 

The casket is simple, the lid open to display the body. Carla feels a shiver of apprehension as she walks up to it. Lynn hangs back to give her a semblance of privacy, in case she was upset. Who would Carla know who would have specifically requested her to investigate their death in their will? And why? Why her? 

She closes her eyes. She’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, and below is only an investigation that she knows will be serious, almost more serious than anything she’s ever done before. She opens her eyes and looks down into the casket. Her hands close into fists, and she sucks in a surprised breath. 

“Doctor Henry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring my Courier Lynn, finally joining this AU!   
> "Mark Nann" = Mark (Arcade's father's canon name) + a bad anagram of part of "Gannon". 
> 
> Next chapter, the mystery will really begin!


	2. Chapter 2

Lynn had quickly led her to a seat when she had staggered upon seeing the face of a man she’d tried her best to forget for the last three years. She pressed a cup of water into Carla’s shaking hands. 

There’s only one reason that someone would kill Doctor Henry, only one reason that Carla can think of. She now sees why Henry had requested her in case something suspicious happened. No one else would know enough about his past to know that there was one large reason why he would be targeted: 

The Enclave. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lynn says, “I didn’t know that you knew him.” 

“Not really.” Carla clears her throat. She doesn’t have time to dwell on the past right now. “I only met him twice, but both times were eventful. May I speak to the friends?” 

The friends. As soon as she says the words, she realizes that there was a high chance that they were also involved with the Enclave. Henry had mentioned a squad one time when he explained why he had to take Arcade. God, Arcade. The poor boy. Carla swallows hard. Would he still recognize her? He had been three years old when they had first met. If he does…

“Excuse me.” She approaches the group, Lynn on her heels. “I’m sorry for your loss. My name is Carla, private detective.” 

One woman and three men turn to her. One of the men, a short hispanic man, has Arcade on his lap, drying his tears with a black-bordered handkerchief. All four of the adults are dressed in black mourning attire, Arcade in a black suit that makes him look like a pale angel of death that would be on a Renaissance painting. 

“Pleased to meet you,” the oldest man shakes Carla’s hand. “We heard you’re taking charge of the investigation-” 

“What are you doing here?” Arcade interrupts. He’s belligerently glaring at Carla, though it’s a weak glare undercut by the fact that he’s still sniffling. 

“What? You know her, Arcade?” The man turns, surprised, to him, then back to Carla. “How-how do you know her?” 

Arcade bites his lip and looks at Lynn. Carla picks up on what he wants. 

“I’m sorry, Detective, but could you give us a few minutes alone?” She requests. She doesn’t even know why she’s covering for them. It’s been three years, but there’s still a nugget of hate in her belly for the Enclave, for what they did to her. But she needs to solve this case. She’s already agreed to do it, and the last thing she likes to do is go back on her promises.

Lynn frowns. “Why?” 

“I can’t tell you. This has to stay off the official record for reasons beyond my control; Marcus will understand. Just-just give us a few minutes, please.” 

She doesn’t look like she trusts Carla, but jerkily nods and turns, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, leaving them as the only people in the room. 

When Carla turns back to the group, she finds the older man staring suspiciously at her. “Arcade, is this about the-” 

“Yes.” 

“Christ, Judah, why in the world did Henry ask her to come here, then?” The woman asks, stepping up to stand protectively in front of Arcade. 

Judah, the older man, shakes his head. “He must have had his reasons, Daisy. He always had his reasons.”

“Well, I say Miss Detective can fuck right off,” the man holding Arcade snarls. “After what she  _ did _ , why should we trust her?” 

“First of all, Moreno,  _ language _ ,” Judah scolds. “Secondly, Henry apparently trusts her. And lastly, she could have told that other police woman about us, but she kept our secret.” He looks at the group. “We’ll put it to a vote. But just know that Henry’s vote is already on her side.” He nods at a taller pale man. “Johnson, you haven’t said anything yet.” 

Johnson shrugs. “I don’t see any need for the police at all. We can handle this ourselves. But since we’re not going to be able to get out of that now, I say she’s alright. My vote is a yes.” 

“Hell no,” Moreno votes. 

“I say yes.” Arcade pipes up. Everyone guiltily looks at each other, as if they had forgotten that Arcade was there at all. 

This apparently changes whatever Daisy was going to say. She hesitates before glancing at Carla and rubbing her face underneath her mourning veil. “Yes.” 

“Sorry, Moreno, you’re outvoted,” Judah says. He turns to Carla. “We’ll help in your investigation, Miss Carla.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief. If they had decided not to cooperate, her work would have been almost impossible. She knows that they’re connected to this, somehow. And now it’s her job to figure out how.

* * *

Step one: the usual. Evidence, crime scene, research on the victim. Basic information gathering. 

After an hour of investigation, here’s what Carla knows:

Doctor Henry had been living in Vegas for the last two years under the alias Mark Nann. He, Arcade, and his four friends lived together in a house in the suburbs. Henry had been working as an independent scientific researcher for anyone that would pay, giving private tutoring to college students on the side. 

Three days ago, he had disappeared. At first, they didn’t think anything about it, and no police report was filed. Not unusual. Nothing to worry about.

Until he showed up dead on their doorstep yesterday morning. 

Step two: interviews with all suspects and witnesses, anyone that could be involved. 

* * *

“You said you’ve been working as a mechanic, right?” 

Johnson nods. “That’s right. Small place just south of the Strip. Started there a year and a half ago.” 

“What did you do...before?” Carla’s hand is white-knuckled around her pen.

His face creases into a weak smile. “Tried my best to work without working, you know? Never agreed with the ideals, just stuck with it out of loyalty to Judah, I think. And  _ someone  _ had to keep Moreno from getting totally brainwashed. Don’t know if I succeeded,” he shrugs, “but at least I tried.” 

Carla checks her notes. To keep herself from thinking too much about what she was doing or what she was talking about, she’d drafted up a list of questions. “Tell me about the others.” 

“I’ve known them for years. Judah was our leader, and he still is. He deserves loyalty, and he’s earned my respect. Daisy too, she’s a great woman. Gentle, but hard as nails. Saw her land a ‘copter in a forest in a thunderstorm without breaking a sweat.” His expression changes to something harder. “Moreno. He’s my best friend, but we can’t stop arguing. He believes in what we used to do, would have laid his life down without a second thought. But I know we have each other’s backs.” 

“What about Henry?”

“Henry.” His face falls. His shoulders slump. “Henry was…” He sighs. “It’s only been a few days, but I miss him already. He had a way with people, even though he was so ornery. Prickly like a cactus, but soft with Arcade. Soft with all of us, in his own way. Could be heartless with everyone else though.” He runs a hand over his face. “Any more questions, Detective?” 

His pain seems genuine. This is why Carla hates murders the most: dealing with those left behind, those who were left standing when the dust had cleared. 

“Do you have any suspects?” She asks. “This is my last question.” 

“No, I honestly don’t know. There aren’t many people left who would know of him, let alone where he was, let alone have a grudge against him. I’m sorry, Detective, but I honestly don’t know.” 

* * *

Lynn catches her outside of the interrogation room. “I have some information.” 

“Great. Let’s hear it.” They sit down in a side conference room. The Enclave remnants, as Carla had taken to calling them in her head, had gone home for the night. 

“The autopsy reports came back, and it confirms what I’d already suspected.” Lynn hands her a folder full of photographs and a medical report. 

Carla opens the folder and almost drops it. She claps a hand over her mouth. There’s a part of her that can stay professional, analyzing the photographs for clues, but there’s another part of her that can’t help but be horrified. 

“We haven’t told them yet,” Lynn quietly says, reaching over to close the folder. “They didn’t see the body well enough to discern anything. There was a lot of blood.” 

“I agree with keeping it from them.” She finds her voice. “It’ll only cause them unnecessary pain. Anything else?” 

“You can go to the house tomorrow. We didn’t find much. Henry wasn’t taken from his house, but somewhere else, probably on the way to or from work. They didn’t notice he was gone until that night when he didn’t come home.” She gives Carla an address and a key. “I’m always here to help, and so is Marcus.” 

“Thank you. It’s nice to know you’ve got my back.” Carla rises and shakes Lynn’s hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to conduct my interviews at their house, if they don’t mind either. You just need to trust me, there is a reason that Henry didn’t want the police officially involved.” 

Lynn sighs. “Can you tell me anything else? Anything that could help?” 

Maybe she could trust her, but Carla honestly doesn’t know. It’s not even her secret to tell. “We all have dark pasts, Lynn. Some are just darker than others. If it becomes relevant to the case, I’ll ask them if I can tell you. I promise.” 

“I guess that’s all I can ask. Marcus trusts you, Carla, so I do too. I’ll scrub anything we might have recorded tonight, and let you take it from here. Good luck.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The house is fairly new. Colonial style, Carla thinks. Maybe she should ask Goris; he’s weirdly good at things like that, obscure styles of architecture and art. The sloped roof is covered with snow, but there’s a neat path to the front door. 

Carla pulls her hat further down over her ears. She had never known Nevada to be this cold, but winter had hit, and it had hit like her fists during a match, fast and brutal. She idly wonders if there’s a boxing ring here in Vegas. She doesn’t doubt it. Maybe she should take some time here, get back into the ring. She’s been keeping up on training, but she hasn’t been in a proper fight for more than a year. 

There are three cars in front of the house. One looks almost brand new, the other two are old and slightly dented. 

Johnson answers the front door when she knocks. She has a key, but she’d prefer to knock if she knows they’re inside. He doesn’t look excited to see her, but he waves her inside anyways with a neutral nod. She takes off her boots and hat and hangs up her winter coat. 

“Is there a spot I could talk in private?” Carla asks. 

“Here, the den.” He leads her through a hallway and into a small room with a desk. “Who do you want to speak with first?”

“It doesn’t really matter. Is Arcade awake?” 

He looks to the side and sighs. “Yes. He didn’t sleep at all last night. Maybe after he talks with you, Moreno or Judah can coax him into a nap. I’ll send him in.” 

Carla sits in the desk chair and opens her notebook. She rubs her eyes. Speaking of not sleeping well last night…

The door to the den opens and quietly closes. Arcade comes and stands in front of her. 

“How about we both sit on the floor,” Carla suggests. He shrugs but sits. “Alright, Arcade, I’m going to start out with some basic questions, then I’m going to ask you about what happened. You don’t have to answer my questions if you don’t want to, or if you don’t know the answer, but I would really appreciate it if you did. Anything you could tell me could help.” 

No response besides a nod. He sits with his arms around his knees, staring at the carpet. She clears her throat nervously. She hates interrogating children, for a multitude of reasons, the main one being that it hurt. It hurt her so much to see young ones hurt or in pain or grieving. 

“How old are you?”

“Six.” 

A verbal response, not a bad start. “Do you go to school?” 

He shakes his head. “They homeschool me, Moreno does a lot. There’s a class at the library sometimes, math or something, and sometimes I go.” 

“Tell me about the others. You said Moreno takes care of you.” 

“He stays at home most of the time. He’s nice to me and to us, but he doesn’t like other people. He doesn’t like you.” He winces at his own honesty. “Johnson and him shout and yell a lot. Johnson’s nice too though.” 

“What about Judah and Daisy?” She prompts when it seems like he’s not going to go on. 

“Nice.” He doesn’t want to elaborate, and Carla decides that that suffices. She’s going to talk to them anyways. 

She taps her pen on a very hard question, one that she doesn’t want to ask. “You found the body. Can you tell me what happened?” 

His eyes well up with tears. “I went to the library alone on Thursday because Moreno had a job interview he said and I knew how to the take the bus so it was fine, and when I came back home-when I came back home-”

“Ssh, I said you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to,” Carla soothes. “You’ve been very helpful, Arcade. I have one last question: Do you know anyone you think could have done it?”

He shakes his head. “Can I go now?”

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Now alone in the room, she sighs and puts her head in her hands. That could have gone worse.

* * *

“What’s going to happen to Arcade now?”

Daisy sadly smiles. “He’ll be adopted by one of us. Me, probably, or Moreno if he finds a job soon. It’s awful, our little sunshine loved Henry.” 

“What do you work as?”

“I work with Johnson. It took a lot of convincing to get the owner to hire a female mechanic, but it’s worked out.” 

Another person with a rock-solid alibi. “What did you used to work as?” 

“A pilot. My job was to transport our squad wherever it needed to go. Was the only one who could, since Johnson refused to let someone else fly him anywhere. Terrified of flying, that man.” 

“Tell me more about them.” 

“Moreno would never admit it, but he used to hold Johnson’s hand when we took off and landed. They’re close, Miss Carla, though sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. Judah, let’s see, protective. He does his best to keep us all safe. Just about had a damn heart attack the first time that Moreno let Arcade come home from the library alone, wouldn’t hardly let the kid out of his sight all week.” The grin falls from her face. “If only that had ended there, maybe he wouldn’t have found the body first. No kid should have to see their guardian like that. Awful, just darn awful.” 

Carla politely averts her eyes while Daisy dabs at her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Is there anyone who could have done it?” 

She shrugs. “Goodness, I have no idea. We’ve kept our pasts a secret for years now, I don’t think it could be related to that. But he had no enemies. Sure, he wasn’t loved by his students or his clients, but he wasn’t disliked either. And somebody who could have gotten the jump on him, goodness, Miss Carla, I just don’t know.” She hardens. “But I hope you find them, and I hope you make them pay for what they did.” 

“That’s what I’m here for.” 

* * *

“I want to ask  _ you _ a question, Detective.” 

She nods. “Alright. Go ahead.” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Her stomach twists like a balloon becoming an animal shape. “I was curious, at first. But I owe Marcus a lot, and I’d take any case he offered me. It’s not-it’s not because of the-the-” The paper of her notebook crinkles under her fingers. “It has nothing to do with your past. And now, I just want to find the truth. That I can promise, Moreno.” She’s already shown weakness, and she keeps her eyes averted from his challenging ones. “You said you were currently unemployed.” 

“That’s right. I’m looking, but somebody has to stay home and take care of Arcade anyways.” 

“You had a job interview on Thursday when Henry’s body was found. Where?” 

He doesn’t seem uncomfortable with her questions, but he still fixes her with an unwavering glare. “A bar downtown. I could work nights and take care of Arcade during the day. But it didn’t work out. They wanted references, previous experience, a background check. I decided the low pay wasn’t worth the effort. We do fine with what we have now.” 

“Downtown? Do you have a car?” 

“Yes. Me and Henry used to share the old Cadillac ‘42 in the garage, the black one. Daisy and Johnson take the Buick, and Judah gets a newer car from his work. The carpooling would have worked out, or I could have taken a bus.” He shrugs. “What else?”

Interesting information. He has a solid alibi too, not that Carla seriously suspects any of them to have done it. But most murder victims are killed by someone they know, so she can’t let down her guard. “What did you do before?” 

“Heavy weapons. It was my job to clear paths, watch the team’s back. Not very useful now, I’m afraid.” There’s a hint of bitterness there. 

“Tell me about the others.” 

“Johnson was also armed, like me, but he was a lazy piece of shit, always trying to get out work.” That lines up what she knows. “Judah, though, I respect him. He’s always been a good leader. Daisy, too, she’s reliable as can be. Almost never crashed, you know that? Over seventy flights, some of them in crazy-ass conditions, and the only time she crashed was because of a technical problem, and we all walked away almost uninjured. Great gal.” He runs a hand over his face. “Henry was great. I’m glad he took Arcade after his parents passed. I wasn’t always fond of his experiments, some of them were damn weird, but that’s what people paid him to do, and it was none of my business. He was tricky to figure out, you know? He said he killed two people once, to protect him and Arcade from getting brought back. That pudgy little scientist, shooting two people, hah!” He sobers. “But he’d have done anything to protect his kid, to protect all of us, you gotta know that, Detective. Nobody else mattered to him, he’d throw everyone else under a fucking bus without batting an eye.” 

Carla bites her lip. “Any suspects?” 

“Do  _ you  _ have any suspects?” 

“Not really. It’s still too early to have any clear ideas. I’ve got leads, but nothing concrete that I would share with you.” 

He nods. “That’s fair. One last question, Detective: why did you blow up Navarro?” 

“What?” She drops her pen. It hits the carpet without a sound. 

“Why. Did. You. Blow. It. Up.” He leans forward in his chair and pins her to her own with the force of his stare. 

Carla leans backwards, as if she could escape. “They-they tried to kill me, and they  _ kidnapped  _ my best friend, and they were going to kill  _ everyone _ . I-I couldn’t let them do that.” She stands, her notebook tightly clutched in her hand. “Interview over. I’m done.”

She manages to keep it together until the bathroom door closes behind her. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d left the room. Her notebook slips from her fingers and falls to the floor with a flutter of paper. She follows suit, the tile floor cold under her knees, even through her thick winter tights. 

One hand scrabbles for the smooth edge of the sink above her, trying to heave herself back up, her other hand furiously wiping away tears. Why? Why did she do it? All of those people, she could have just...No. She did what she had to do, and she can’t take that back. There’s no room for regret in her life. 

With a suppressed sob, she struggles to her feet. Her reflection in the mirror looks back at her, as if challenging her, encouraging herself to keep going. She grips the edge of the sink and takes a deep breath.

She has a case. She needs to solve it. 

That is enough for her to pull herself back into some semblance of together. She turns on the tap and washes her face, the cold water helping bring her back to a calm state of mind. One last interview, one last challenge to face. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mention of graphic violence right after the second cut (mentions of torture).

“Moreno can be thoughtless sometimes. Are you alright?” Judah is gentle and almost fatherly with her, reaching with to pat her shoulder.

She nods and rubs her cheek. “I'm fine. Everyone grieves in their own way, and some lash out to deal with it. It just took me off guard, that’s all. Now, tell me about yourself, Judah.”

“Oh, not much to tell, I’m afraid. I work down at the new Ford plant. Worked my way up over the last year to be a junior manager. Unfortunately, that means I'm out of the house early, and I come back late. But my income is really what keeps us stable.”

Another perfect alibi. Carla had already checked with their workplaces, and had confirmed that none of them had missed work while Henry was gone. “Tell me about the others, please.”

“As I said, Moreno can be cruel, and he's still very bitter about what happened. He’s had the hardest time adjusting, with only Johnson having problems too. They were both so used to that lifestyle, those things are hard to change.” He chuckles. “At least they still bicker like they used to. I would be mighty bored if I wasn't splitting up their fights every week.” 

“As for Daisy, she's taken it like a champ. Only thing she misses is the flying, never really cared for much else. Just like Henry. I think he had only stuck around because of the scientific resources they gave him, couldn't give a damn about their ideals. Of course, he was loyal to the Gannons too.” He sighs. “When we heard about them, and then Navarro shortly after, well, we feared the worst. When Henry managed to make contact with us a year later, we were so happy that they were safe. We'd promised Arcade's parents that if something ever happened, that we'd take care of him. And we finally got to fulfill that promise.” 

It seems like all Judah wants is his team’s happiness. He looks around the house like it's a home. “Do you have any suspects?” 

“No, I'm sorry. I can't imagine anyone that would have wanted to do something like this. We kept to ourselves. All we want is to forget about our past, Miss Carla. Live our lives. Try to give Arcade a normal childhood. Hell, we've got a two-story and a white picket fence, jobs and cars and library cards. Who would want to take all of that away from us?” 

Who indeed. “Thank you, Judah. May I take a look around?” 

“Yes, of course.” He quickly checks his watch. “Stay for lunch too, if you want.” 

She smiles. Back to neutral territory. “Sorry, I've already made plans with Marcus.”

Judah shows her the kitchen and living room. Daisy and Moreno curiously look up. They're sitting on the couch, Moreno reading a book, Daisy frowning down at a gadget in her hands. Moreno huffs and goes back to reading, Daisy gives them a friendly nod. 

“Be quiet if you go upstairs,” she warns. “Johnson's trying to get sunshine to sleep.” 

They tiptoe up the stairs, Carla’s shoe-less feet silent against the carpet. 

“This is Daisy’s room,” Judah whispers, pointing to the room on the right of the stairs. “Then here’s mine and Johnson’s, then Moreno and Henry used to share a room, then on the left here, the smaller one, is Arcade’s.” 

“Can I peek into Henry’s?” Carla murmurs. 

Judah hesitates, but nods. “Moreno probably won’t mind.” 

The room is simple and clean. Two beds are against the walls. They are both neatly made, heavy quilts over the comforters. Judah points at the far bed and shows Carla Henry’s side of the closet. She doesn’t touch anything. There’s little point in poking around: Henry wasn’t taken from his home, so there’ll be no clues to be found here. All the same, there’s no harm in covering all of her bases. 

They head back downstairs. 

“Thank you for cooperating.” Carla shakes Judah’s hand. “I’ll call on you if I need anything more, but I don’t want to bother you too much.” 

“Thank you for being sensitive with this. It means more to us than you could ever understand. We appreciate your discretion.” 

“It’s nothing. It’s what Henry would have wanted.” With that, Carla slips her feet into her boots, puts on her winter coat with Judah’s help, and shoves her hat over her ears. With a nod to Judah, she’s out the door.

* * *

“It’s a shame that we had to see each other again because of a case like this,” Marcus says. “I’d have loved for you to meet Lynn in a less professional context too. She’s great to work with. The whole station is. I still miss you and Goris, and Len too, of course.” 

She smiles. They’re at a restaurant that Marcus had chosen, casual, Italian food. “We miss you too. We were just talking the other day about coming out here in the summer.” 

“That’d be great. How’s my replacement?” Carla winces and he heartily laughs, a big booming chuckle. “Hey, he’s not too bad. A little ornery, a little prickly, no sense of sociability. But he’s a good leader, just you wait, as soon as he gets that stick out of his ass.” 

Carla sighs. Something Marcus had said reminds her of her case. 

“Carla, you don’t have to tell me specifics, but this is about...them, right? That’s why none of it can be on official record?” 

She nods. “I mentioned Henry in my original report, briefly. He’s the one who falsified Richard Wright’s autopsy report. But I met him later, too, when I was on the run. He was running too, with Arcade.” Like birds before a storm, she thinks. She wonders if Henry had an inkling of the Enclave’s impending downfall. “He’s the only reason I was able to find Len and take the whole organization down. I owe him, in a weird way.” 

“Still, these cases bring you nothing but trouble.” Marcus sighs. He reaches across the table and pats her hand. “You can always confide in me, Carla, you know that. Off the record, if need be.”

Their food comes, and they pause their conversation until the waiter walks away.

“Thanks, Marcus. I’m dealing with it fine, for now. But,” she rubs her temple, “I don’t know. I just don’t have any leads that aren’t related to them and their pasts. Hell, the only suspect I can definitely rule out is Arcade! I have no idea!” 

“You’ll figure it out.” Marcus says it with so much certainty that Carla almost chokes on her food. “No matter what, no matter what it takes, you’ll succeed. Maybe not alone, maybe you’ll really need Lynn’s or my help after all, but you’ll get there.” 

She ducks her head. “Gee, Marcus, thanks. Now let’s eat, before this gets cold. I’ve got a couple of leads to follow up on today.” 

Before she leaves the restaurant, she scribbles out a note for Goris and Lenny, and gives it to Marcus to send to the telegram office.

* * *

She’s been avoiding this. But she knows she can’t avoid it forever, can’t just block this information out. This is evidence, and important. A clue to a motive, maybe. 

The folder is closed, sitting on the table of her small hotel room. She sighs and sits on the chair. She stares at the blank manilla folder. Then she runs a hand over her face and opens it. 

The medical report first. Basic information, height and weight. Blood tests, skin samples. Then there’s a list. An itemized list, and it makes her gag. But she forces herself to read on. She needs to know this. She’s a professional. This is her job. That still doesn’t make it any easier. 

Blisters on wrists and ankles. Signs of extreme stress related to sleep deprivation and starvation. Dehydration. Lacerations all over, mostly shallow, but some deep and badly stitched up, presumably to stop him from bleeding out. Broken kneecaps. Broken toes, broken fingers, broken nose. Burns from fire, burns from electrocution. Missing fingernails, missing toenails, missing toe, missing ear-

She coughs, one hand over her mouth, trying to push back down the nausea that rises. She can’t read on, slamming the folder shut and pushing it away from her. She’s gotten the picture. 

Henry didn’t deserve this kind of death. Carla cries for a man she barely knew, a man she once considered her enemy. 

The phone rings and she jumps out of her chair in surprise. She fumbles for it. 

“Hello?” She responds, voice watery. 

“Carla? Are you okay?” 

That’s right, she’d completely forgotten that she’d told her friends to call her that night. “I’m fine,” she half-heartedly says, sniffling and rooting around her purse on the floor for a handkerchief. “I’m just, it’s just the case.” 

“We-we should h-have come with you,” Lenny says. 

“No!” She snaps. “I’m fine, I’ve got it under control.” She finally finds a cotton handkerchief. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

Goris sighs. “Well, we can always offer a distraction, if nothing else. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” Alone now in her hotel room, she feels the weight of the case. But this isn’t something she can talk about over the phone.

Lenny immediately launches into a story about the new police chief that makes Carla laugh, and Goris follows it up with another story, one that makes her smile. They’re miles apart, but talking like this, it feels like they’re with her, sitting in the diner and eating breakfast, or crossing paths in the police station and sharing a donut in the hallway. 

All too soon, they have to go. It’s getting late, and they all need their rest. Carla falls asleep a little less lonely, a little less wary of this case. She’s going to solve it, she’s sure. She just needs to keep going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think did it?


	5. Chapter 5

“How did you get into the detective business, Lynn?” 

She looks up from the menu in her hands. “You want to know my first case?” 

“Sure.” Carla folds her menu and sets it down on the table. She’s going to order soup and salad, she decides. It’s still so cold outside, she needs something light but hot. There’s already a pot of tea in between them. Carla had made it her own personal resolution to cut down on the alarming amounts of coffee she’s been drinking of late. 

“First murder I solved was my own.” 

“What?” 

Lynn laughs, waving one hand. “I got better. I’m kidding, mostly. I did get shot, almost died on the operating table while they were pulling out the bullet.” She presses back a chunk of her hair, showing off a nasty-looking scar just past her hairline. “After that, it came naturally. Fast-forward to today, and it’s my job. What about you?” 

“Well, I was part of an underground boxing ring-”

“Really?” Lynn leans forward in her seat, the edge of the plastic menu digging into her shoulders. “Wow, illegal activity, and now you’re part of the police. Does Marcus know?” 

She shrugs. “Probably. I was just in it for the money, really. But while I had rivalries with some of my competitors, we still stuck together. And one day, one of them needed help, and he wasn’t about to find it with the police.” 

“Reminds me of our group right now,” Lynn quietly comments. “Do you-Carla, do you have any ideas? Because, to be honest, I’m totally in the dark here.” 

“Honestly, I just,” she sighs, “I just don’t know. Here’s my thoughts so far: Arcade obviously didn’t do it. For so many reasons. But as for the rest of them, they’re all still on the suspect list. Judah could have done it, but I don’t think he did. That’s just my gut instinct, but I could be wrong. Johnson and Daisy both have rock-solid alibis: each other. They share cars, neither one of them could go anywhere without the other knowing. Moreno was the only one who  _ maybe  _ could have done it, but even still, he was with Arcade almost the whole time.” She taps her fingers on the table. “And the motive, Lynn, the  _ motive _ . Moreno is sort of hostile towards me, but I honestly cannot come up with a reason that he would kill one of his friends, especially not so violently. And what would Henry even know that the rest of them wouldn’t?” 

Their food arrives and they pause to eat. Carla turns over the facts and clues in her mind, and she knows that Lynn is doing the same. For all that Carla doesn’t know if she can trust the other woman, she’s competent. She’s quick and creative and follows the same rational process as Carla does. 

“I had an idea,” Lynn starts, twirling her fork in her hand. “I’ve been trying to do some digging on the work that Henry was doing. His clients, people that have paid him, things like that. I haven’t found much, but maybe he kept a record somewhere. Or we can find notes, data, anything that might indicate anyone who might have been unhappy with his work.” 

“Good idea. We can ask them if he had anything. Judah might know.” Carla’s glad that Lynn’s been thinking on a broader scale. She’s been so focused with the Enclave side of things, sometimes she forgets that there might be more than one motive for killing Henry. 

They leave the warmth of the restaurant where they had enjoyed their lunch, stepping out into the bitter cold, the wind whipping at their thick coats. Carla drives them both over to the Enclave remnants’ house. Daisy opens the door when they knock, nodding as they explain what they want. She pokes her head into the living room to check with Judah, who’s watching TV with Moreno. He agrees that it wouldn’t hurt. 

“They’re in one of the top boxes in his side of the closet, I think,” Moreno comments, the most helpful he’s been so far in her investigation. “He always kept all his notes organized.” 

“I trust you not to dig around where you shouldn’t,” Daisy says after they’ve gone upstairs. “We’ll be downstairs if you need us.” She leaves Lynn and Carla alone in the room. 

They start their search. They only have to poke in a few boxes before they find the right one. It would be overflowing with paper if it wasn’t so meticulously organized, every piece of paper in its spot, no inch of the box wasted. 

“He had an assistant for a period of time, a woman named Calamity. No real name listed, no contact information. But he has the words ‘reliable’ and ‘trustworthy’ jotted down next to her name. What’s more, she moved down to Texas four months ago.” 

“Research with dogs. Research with robots. Weird how he didn’t seem to have any specialization.” Lynn flips through notes with a frown. “I guess he really did just do whatever people paid him to do.” 

“His most recent research was trying to find a cure for something, some disease. He’s weirdly vague about it. Here, see if you can find anything else about it.” 

The front door of the houses opens and closes, and Carla cranes her head to try and hear. She catches some voices, but nothing loud enough for her to overhear. She raises her head from a sheaf of papers detailing an experimental drug when the door to the room opens. 

“Oh, Arcade, come in.” She gives him her warmest smile. “Did you need something?” 

She doesn’t get a smile in return. He almost clings to the door, peeking around it. “Miss Carla,” he starts. 

“Is something wrong?” She prompts when it seems like he’s not going to go on. 

He nods. 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” 

Another nod, but mixed with a shrug. 

“Me and the others?” She guesses, and gets a nod in return. “Well, let’s go downstairs.” 

“I’ve got it under control up here,” Lynn assures her. “You take care of this.” 

Arcade leads Carla into the living room. Judah looks up from the TV, a worried frown wrinkling his brow. “You okay, Arcade?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Did something happen while we were at the library?” Johnson asks. He waves at Daisy to come in as she passes through the hallway. Moreno, next to Johnson, turns off the TV. 

Arcade nods and launches into his story, slowly at first before cannonballing into a roll, his words blurring together almost too fast to understand. “I was at a table alone in the library while Johnson went somewhere and somebody sat down next to me and started talking to me, and I told him I’m not allowed to talk to strangers. He asked me if I knew any passwords, he said that he likes secret code words and asked me if I knew any.” This statement elicts an alarmed gasp from Judah. Daisy’s eyes widen. Johnson and Moreno solemnly look at each other. 

“Did you tell him anything, Arcade?” Johnson asks, his voice hushed. 

He shakes his head. “No, I told him that I’m not allowed to talk to strangers, and that I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he asked me again, so I said- I said excuse me, my dad is over there and I got up and went to Johnson and why- why would he ask that, what if he asked me more and I was scared that I wasn’t going to be able to lie and I was going to tell him the words that I knew-” 

“Ssh, come on,” Moreno scoops him up and sets him on his lap, hugging him tightly. “You did good, pumpkin, you did really good.” 

“What is he talking about, the words?” Carla asks. “What does that mean?” 

Judah sighs. “I’m sorry, Carla, that’s a secret that stays between us-wait. The words. The  _ words _ .” His back stiffens. He swallows hard. “Arcade, did you say the  _ words  _ that you knew?” 

“No…” 

“Do you- Arcade, do you know more than one of the words?” Johnson asks, his hands white-knuckled on his legs. 

Carla looks back and forth between them. What are they talking about? Why do they seem to be in a panic over this? 

“Don’t lie, sunshine.” Daisy kneels in front of Arcade, putting a hand on his hair. “Did Henry tell you his word?” 

He bursts into tears, nodding his head. Moreno rubs his back and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“This is bad, Judah,” he whispers. “There was a reason we can’t know more than one. Fuck, why did Henry do that? He knows why we did it, we all agreed to never tell each other, no matter what.” 

“Why did we even  _ give  _ him a word in the first place?” Johnson raises his voice. “What the hell were we  _ thinking _ , burdening someone so young with such responsibility?” 

Judah opens his mouth to talk, but Carla beats him to it. 

“Everyone calm down!” She snaps. “What is going on here? What are you all talking about?” 

“It’s none of your business-”

“It is,” she interrupts Judah again. “It really is. This, whatever this secret is, it could be important enough that someone would kill Doctor Henry to find it out. And if you are all in on it too, that means that every single one of you is in danger.” 

“We need to talk about this, alone,” Daisy says. “This...telling you would be a big decision, Carla, you have to understand.” 

“Alright.” She hates secrets, but she also knows that this is the only way that they’re going to be able to trust her. “Arcade, do you remember what that man looked like?” He nods. “Good. How about we go upstairs and you can tell Lynn everything you remember? That would be really helpful.” 

Johnson shoots her a relieved glance. This is obviously not something they want to discuss in front of him. “Go ahead, Arcade. We’ll only be a couple of minutes.” 

* * *

Carla knocks on the wall of the living room to announce her presence. She holds a folder of photos in one hand. The four of them look up at her entrance. In silence, she sits down.

“We’ve come to an...agreement.” 

She sets the folder down, taking care that none of the photos show from the edges. “Alright.” 

Judah leans forward, his elbows on the arms of his chair. “This stays between us, Miss Carla.” He sighs. “Three years ago, when, well, you know what happened. There were provisions made, precautions and backup plans. Most of them burned with Navarro, but one remained: a secret bunker with supplies, weapons, everything one squad would need to continue their mission in case the worst happened. Everything needed to rebuild and survive.” 

“Where is this bunker?” 

Daisy shakes her head. “We can’t tell you.” 

“What we can tell you, though, is that it has a passcode. Six words. It used to be five, but they added another one. They were worried, I think. They were going to give one to Arcade’s father, but after he was killed in action, they gave it to Arcade himself.” He taps his fingers on the chair. “Each of one us knows one word, and  _ only  _ one word. But Henry must have been worried about something. Maybe he knew that his life was danger, I don’t know. But it was still stupid. The passcode was meant to keep us all safe. That bunker can’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, including our own. If we decide to use whatever is inside, it has to be a unanimous decision. One of many failsafes.” 

Carla listens to his story in silence. Things are starting to come together in her mind, clues and suspicions congealing to form a whole. She worries the edge of the folder between her fingers.

“But Henry wasn’t killed because of that,” Johnson argues. “Nobody even knows about that! How could they?” 

“I’m sorry,” Carla says. All eyes in the room turn to her. She rubs the stiff corner of the folder. She’s glad she had left Arcade upstairs under Lynn’s watchful eye. “I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry, but I need to tell you something. And it might- you will find it upsetting.” Her eyes drop to the coffee table. She slides the folder forward. “There was evidence of significant torture on Henry’s body. Whoever killed him was looking for information, and I think they found it.” 

Judah takes the folder and opens it. He stares at the pictures in silence, then closes his eyes and closes the folder. His face is ashen. Daisy, tears gathering in the corners of her downcast eyes, reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. Moreno mumbles something and runs from the room, Johnson on his heels. 

“I’m sorry,” Carla repeats. She has a feeling that she has just made things worse, just reopened wounds that were only starting to close. “I’m so sorry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judging by what I've written so far, we're about halfway through! 
> 
> Also, I wrote this entire chapter before looking up the fact that there are only FIVE words (Arcade, of course, doesn't have one in canon), but uhhhh it's an AU so there you go!
> 
> I think a spin-off with just Lynn in one of her earlier cases would be really fun, maybe I'll see what I can do!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for attempted child kidnapping and non-consensual drugging.

Carla comes back the next day. When she approaches their house and parks her car, she stops for a second to enjoy the scene in front of her.

“Oh, you want a snowball fight, pumpkin?” Moreno playfully says, brushing snow off his jacket. Grinning, he scoops up some snow and chucks it at Arcade, careful not to aim for his face.

Arcade squeals in laughter as it hits his powder blue snowsuit. He’s bundled up more than is probably necessary: a hat over his hair, a scarf around his neck, puffy snow boots protecting his feet from the cold. He pats a snowball into shape with gloved hands and narrowly misses Moreno with it. 

Both of them stop when she closes her car door. Moreno winces before giving her a neutral nod. He turns to Arcade. “Hey, pumpkin, you wanna go out back and make a snowman before this all melts?” 

This is enough to distract him, and he grabs Moreno’s hand and leads him around the side of the house and out of sight. 

Carla’s secretly glad; the less Arcade has to be involved in the investigation, the better. The house is warm. Judah greets her at the door. 

“Johnson and Daisy just left for work,” he says. “But I was able to get the day off. Come, sit in the kitchen.” He pours her a cup of tea from an old kettle, setting plates of croissants and fruit in front of both of them. “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet…” 

“No, thank you.” She gives him a smile. “You said you had something to talk to me about?” 

He sighs. “Yes. Something you said yesterday when were talking about...Henry. It reminded me of some Enclave personnel we ran into a little over a year ago. I don’t know if you’d still be able to track them down, or if they would even do something like this, but I thought you should know anyways.” 

Carla leans forward, interested. This is the first she’s heard about the group having contact with anyone Enclave-related. She flips open to a fresh page in her notebook. Lynn was currently tracking down some of Henry’s more recent clients. They both intuitively knew that it would probably be a dead end, but maybe they could get some information from that path. 

“The first one happened over a year ago, August, I think. Late August. I was driving home from work, this was right after one of my big promotions. I was downtown, stopped at a light, when I saw him.” 

“Who?”

“His name is F-F-” Judah stutters over the name. “How about I just write it down for you.” 

Frank Horrigan. 

“He used to be a bodyguard for the Enclave. Big, nasty-lookin’ fellow.” Judah swallows hard. “I saw him rip a man’s arms off one time, just like pulling petals off a dandelion. And his reputation spoke of worse things. And he looked towards me when I was in my car, just stared in my direction.” He shivers. “I couldn’t stop lookin’ behind me when I was going home. Thought he might follow or something, I don’t know. Don’t even know if he recognized me. Never saw him again.” 

Carla taps her pen against the name on the paper. “But he never saw Henry. And that was a long time ago.” 

Judah shrugs, but it’s not a very relaxed motion. “Still, Miss Carla. Probably best that you knew anyways. He’s not someone you would want to cross.” He takes a sip of his tea before continuing. “The next one was a few months after. A man came into Daisy and Johnsons’ work. He cornered them and tried to convince them to join him. He was planning on moving to the East Coast and rebuilding the Enclave there. He didn’t tell them his name, but Johnson said he had an atrocious accent, light hair, average height.” 

“How did he even find you?”

“I don’t know,” Judah admits. “Daisy told him to go fuck himself in no uncertain terms, that they were done with that life. And Johnson, well, he was never particularly loyal in the first place. That’s the last we heard of that man. But if he was able to find us…” 

“Then maybe somebody else did too. Is there anyone that could be alive that might hold a grudge against you? Anybody, even the most far-fetched ideas?” 

Judah gives her a list of names and descriptions. “I hope you understand what a huge act of trust this is, Miss Carla. This is everyone we’ve ever known in the Enclave. I trust that you will use this information wisely.”

“I’ll only use it for this investigation,” Carla promises. “I do not plan on trying to track them down unless they turn out to be suspects.” 

Sergeant Arch Dornan: he hated Johnson and pretty much everybody else. Raul and Quincy: engineers in charge of vertibird maintenance. Doctor Schreber- dead, Carla tells him, to his immense relief. Captain A. Ron Meyers, last location unknown after he deserted shortly before Henry. Doctor Curling, also probably dead. Tom Murray, probably dead, unless he had been able to get out in time. Sergeant Granite, who was away on a mission with his squad when Navarro blew up. Judah suggests that they are in more or less the same position as his own team. 

Carla knows that this list is supposed to be helping her, but all it’s doing is making her miserable. It’s a detailed list of a fraction of the people that she’s killed. Finally, though, Judah finishes his list. She breathes a little easier. 

“Thank you, Judah,” Carla says. “I really don’t think any of them are suspects, except for maybe Captain Meyers or Sergeant Granite. But I appreciate your trust.” Even though she knows she doesn’t deserve it. 

“It’s the least I can do to help.” He rests his elbows on the table, staring out the window behind her. She turns and sees Moreno and Arcade out in the snow. “I just wish,” he rubs his forehead, “I just wish we could move on. Live normal lives. Forget about all of this. And some of us are trying, God knows we try so hard, but sometimes it feels like it’s going to all start crashing down.” 

In that instant, Carla looks at him and knows. It’s not just the words he says, it’s the way he says them, the way the words resonate with something in her heart. 

Judah didn’t do it. 

She stands. “Thank you again. I’d really better get going, start taking a look at some of this. I shouldn’t be around again unless I need something, in which case I’ll call.” 

Judah shakes himself. He shows her to the door and waves to her as she gets in her car. Little does she know that she’ll be back that very same night.

* * *

Arcade’s sheets are tangled around his body when he wakes, a sob rising in his throat. His dark room offers no comfort, offers no distraction from his dream, no reassurance that maybe Henry is alright after all and this is all a bad dream. 

The blurry lines of his dresser and desk aren’t friends there to comfort him. He shakes his legs out of his blankets and reaches blindly for his glasses, his hands hitting the corner of his bedside table and feeling along the surface. 

A footstep on the ground, light, like someone’s wearing tennis shoes. 

“Hello?” Arcade whispers. He freezes. “Is someone there?” 

There’s a soft breath that’s not his own. His own breathing picks up in panic and he opens his mouth to scream-

Someone grabs his arm and puts something over his nose and mouth, a soft rag that smells sweet. 

“Daisy!” He screams anyways, the sound slightly muffled by the fabric. He thrashes and the person grips him harder. His head is starting to hurt, and he knows he’s breathing too fast and probably making it all worse. 

He gets in a good kick and his assailant grunts in pain. Their grasp on him loosens, enough for him to wiggle away and roll off his bed, shrieking every name he can think of. Dizzy and disoriented in the dark, he doesn’t quite manage to get to his feet before they grab him again, this time locking an arm around his waist, bodily picking him up, and pressing the rag to his face again. 

“Fucking loudmouth,” the person holding him hisses, shouldering open Arcade’s bedroom door. “Shut the hell up for once in your goddamn life!” The hallway is dark, but lights are starting to come on when they pound down the stairs. Upstairs, one of the bedroom doors flies open as they turn the corner into the kitchen.

Arcade’s head is spinning, and the constant shaking, the blurry up-and-down of the person running through the house, is making him nauseous. His struggles weaken and he slumps, coughing. Whatever the rag is soaked with is making him numb and light-headed. 

A gunshot rings out, then somebody curses in disappointment. A high voice, so Daisy, maybe. She kept a gun under her pillow, was the only one who did that. Judah’s was on his bedside table, Johnson’s inside a locked drawer, and Moreno’s was on top of his dresser, high up so Arcade couldn’t reach it. Henry had kept his locked away in the closet, hoping that he would never have to use it again.

The front door of the house is loudly kicked open and the cold air hits him hard, penetrating even through the blanket of numbness thrown over him. He fights to stay awake, his eyes slipping shut against his will, like this is the Sandman come to take him away, but instead of being metaphorical and about dreams, he’s  _ literally  _ being abducted, and  _ not  _ to Dreamland. 

“Christ, Daisy, watch the kid!” 

“Here, give me the gun, I’m the marksman here!” 

Another gunshot, and then Arcade is on the ground, out of his captor’s arms, rolling in the soft snow until he comes to a stop. He hears another gunshot, then a car engine revving, tires squealing until the sound fades away down the street. 

The snow under his cheek is cold, but the air here is fresh, and he gasps, coughing and trying to push down the nausea that rises in his burning throat. 

“Arcade honey,  _ fuck _ , are you okay?” Daisy sounds like she’s crying, and this is the first time he’s ever heard her swear like this. Her arms are strong when she scoops him up, gentle but desperate, and he nods, limp in the crook of her elbow, his head still spinning. 

“Call the police,” Judah orders, and Arcade opens his eyes in time to see Johnson scurry into the house. “Thank God everyone’s alright.” 

“He looks like he’s going to pass out. Come on, sunshine, stay with us,” Daisy worries, shaking Arcade slightly to try and keep him awake. Their voices seem to be coming as from a distance, like his ears are stuffed with wool. He’s shivering, but he’s soon back inside the warm house.

“Let him sleep, he probably needs it. It’s probably from whatever that asshole was trying to drug him with. It’ll wear off soon, he just needs to sleep it off.” 

Johnson returns, sitting heavy at the kitchen table. The lightbulbs are blurring together in Arcade’s vision, too bright, stabbing into his eyes even when he closes them. His head lolls against Daisy’s shoulder. She rubs his back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“They’re on their way-wait. Wait.” Johnson’s voice is the last thing he hears before succumbing to unconsciousness. 

“Where’s Moreno?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go look up mid-1950's children's snowsuits, they are super adorable. Also, completely unnecessary, since it normally really isn't that cold in Vegas during the winter.
> 
> Late August is the time in-canon that you run into Frank Horrigan, so I thought it would be fitting. Also, I never knew until recently that Captain A. Ron Meyers (of the oil tanker) used to be in the Enclave!
> 
> You know that anytime I go into someone besides Carla's POV, things are going to turn out bad... Fun fact, ether is something that is more or less readily available (especially compared to chloroform) and is less risky to use on children. It was used as an alternative anaesthetic in the U.S. up until the 70s or 80s I think, and is still used today in some countries. Like chloroform, it does NOT work immediately like in movies, it does have to be held there for a little bit. Also, nausea is a common side-effect, especially in children, but not as severe as other drugs.
> 
> Any suspects?


	7. Chapter 7

“No sign of a struggle.” Carla runs her hand through her hair. She paces around the room, sparing a glance for the gun on top of the dresser. “Probably drugged too, maybe something stronger, injected.” She sighs, the sound seeming to echo in the small room, like the space itself knows that someone is missing. Two people are missing from this room, and one of them isn’t coming back. 

“But why Moreno first? Why him, and not Daisy? Or Judah?” She asks herself, turning on her heel and continuing to pace. “Moreno sleeps alone. His gun is all the way up on the dresser. But Daisy sleeps with a gun under her pillow. Judah and Johnson are in the same room. Moreno would be the safest option, other than Arcade. Maybe they were worried about him waking up, him being the closest to Arcade’s room, and decided to grab him first just in case.” 

The door to the room opens. Lynn pokes her head in. “Daisy said she’s ready to talk to you. She’s downstairs in the kitchen.” 

They’re halfway down the stairs when Lynn stops her. “We need to talk later, Carla. I need to know why someone would want to kidnap them. There’s information that they couldn’t get from Henry, isn’t there?” 

Carla nods. “Later,” she promises. She can tell enough without divulging the whole truth. 

They pass the downstairs bathroom. The door is closed, but she can hear the muffled sound of crying. Johnson, probably. The raw sound makes Carla’s heart contract in empathy. Johnson had said that Moreno was his best friend, even when things were tough between them. And now to have him taken away, on top of grieving for Henry? 

She never should have told them about Henry’s body. Maybe if they didn’t know what was going to happen to Moreno, what could have happened to Arcade too, maybe this would be easier for them. But not knowing has never done anything but delay the inevitable. She would have had to tell them, sooner or later. 

There are a few officers in the hallway by the front door, but the living room is empty save for Judah and Arcade. The boy is sleeping on the couch, a blanket tucked around him. Judah is sitting on the floor next to him, his head buried in the couch cushion, his left hand stroking Arcade’s hair. His shoulders shake with quiet sobs, and he doesn’t hear them walk by. They duck past him and into the kitchen. 

Daisy raises her head from the kitchen table. She looks haggard in her pastel nightgown and faded pink robe. Carla sits at the table across from her. Lynn puts a pot of water on to boil, digging out the ingredients for coffee. They’re all going to need it. 

“Tell me what happened,” Carla coaxes. All they’d gotten was a near-hysterical report from Johnson and whatever the police had been able to uncover in the brief minutes they’d been there before her. 

“I woke up to my boy screaming  _ bloody murder _ in the middle of the night,” Daisy’s voice breaks. “I sleep with a gun under my pillow, you know that, so I ran out into the hallway. Missed my first two shots, and I thought for a second that I hit  _ Arcade _ , because he stopped screaming all of a sudden, didn’t know that that was because he was half knocked-out.” She gratefully accepts the coffee and a box of tissues from Lynn, who goes to lean against the kitchen door. 

“Did you see them?” Carla asks. 

Daisy shakes her head. “Not really. Dressed all in black, fairly big. A man, I reckon. He had a mask on over his hair and face, and it was so dark, I don’t think I’d have been able to see anything anyways. Johnson took my gun and managed to hit him in the leg, made him drop Arcade. He booked it to his car, a black van. I didn’t catch the plate or nothin’, too dark and too fast.” She rubs her red-rimmed eyes. “And we were so distracted by making sure that our little one was okay, we didn’t even realize that Moreno was gone until minutes later.” 

“We’ll find who did this, I promise.” Carla rises from her chair and pats Daisy on the shoulder. When they go back out into the living room, all is as they left it. Carla leads Lynn into the den and closes the door behind them. 

She sighs and collapses into the desk chair. Lynn hands her a cup of coffee and sits in the spare folding chair leaning against the wall. Carla sips her coffee and collects her thoughts, mentally trimming off the parts of her explanation that she can’t tell Lynn. 

“There’s a...secret that they all share,” she starts. “A passcode, six words, one for each of them. But Henry told Arcade his word before he died, so he knows two. And whatever the passcode protects is apparently dangerous enough that knowing more than one is something very bad. It’s for their own safety that they only know one part, they said. Remember when Arcade said that some stranger approached him and asked about code words? That was about this.” 

Lynn nods along, and Carla can see the gears turning in her head. “I have a theory, now that I’ve heard this piece of information. It’s something I’ve been considering for a while now.” She bites her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think Henry talked. I don’t think they were able to get his word out of him, and they killed him, either by accident, or as a message to the others.”

Carla leans back in her chair. “I’ve considered this too, but I wasn’t sure. What makes you think that now?” 

“It’s just that I think they planned to not just take Moreno and Arcade tonight, but everyone. But especially Arcade. Not just because he knows two words, but because he’s the key to finding out the rest of them. Because, Carla, from how serious this secret sounds, I think Henry would be more than willing to take it to the grave. Any of them would, if you took them separately. Hell, they probably have agreed not to cave if one of them is tortured. But I  _ cannot  _ believe that any one of them could stand by and watch Arcade get hurt.” 

“They were so careful in taking him, too, like he was definitely the most important part of the whole operation,” Carla adds, nodding thoughtfully. “They could have hit him, they could have put a gun to his head and taken him hostage, hell, they could have knocked him out with something stronger and more dangerous than  _ drugstore ether _ . But they weren’t even armed. And there’s not a scratch on the boy.” 

Lynn’s eyes unfocus. “There’s only so much you could do to make an adult talk before pain has no more effect. But there’s a hell of a lot you could do to a kid.” She shivers. “What do you think their next move is?” 

“The others. I think they’re in even more danger now than ever. They need to be under police protection and surveillance. As for Moreno,” she drags a hand down her cheek, “I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do to find him. He could be anywhere. He could be out of the city by now.”

“I’ll follow up on the leads you got this morning,” Lynn promises. “None of them had matched Arcade’s description, but who knows, maybe they have accomplices, someone nondescript, someone to do their dirty work.” She pats her on the shoulder. “And try to get some sleep, Carla.”

In Lynn, Carla sees the echoes of Goris and Lenny.  _ Let your friends help you _ , they had once said. She cracks a smile. 

“I’ll try. I’ll start looking into their secret. See if there’s any new leads.” She yawns. “You’re good to work with, Lynn. I really appreciate your help, as much as I’ve had to keep you out of the loop.” 

“I trust you too,” Lynn says. Carla cocks her head thoughtfully. Interesting. She hadn’t said that she trusted Lynn, but the woman seems more perceptive than she’d originally thought. There’s a good reason why she’s a detective. “Keep me updated as much as you can.” 

Carla all but collapses into her hotel bed, just past 3 o’clock in the morning. But she’s not going to get much sleep, despite her best efforts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: nightmares (minor character death)

“You didn’t turn yourself in fast enough,” Doctor Henry is saying, and Carla’s pleading with him, begging for him to kill her instead, to just leave her friends alone. Now Daisy is there with a pistol in her hands. She turns and raises her gun. “You failed him, Carla.” She pulls the trigger, and Lenny falls to the ground, his eyes blank. 

Carla shrieks and tries to start forward, but she’s frozen in place. She’s helpless, watching as Johnson now points a gun at the other person in the room. “Failure, failure, such a stupid detective. Why did you think you could go against the Enclave and  _ win _ ? You should have given up while you still had the chance, while your friends were still alive.” 

Goris falls to the floor with a bullet between his eyes, and Marcus is next and Carla screams-

-and bolts upright. Her eyes can’t adjust to the dark hotel room, and she almost trips over her suitcase on the way to the bathroom. The cold tile under her bare legs is a comfort, a chilling reminder of her present surroundings. It shocks her back to the present and fully out of her dream.

The bright neon clock reads 7:05 in the morning. She coughs once before turning on the sink and splashing cold water on her face. She shivers, then spends a moment with her head down over the sink, her eyes closed and water dripping down her face. 

Daily routine is a comfort. Shower, brush teeth, get dressed. The premonition of a busy day has her putting on comfortable jeans, a t-shirt and a cardigan, hastily twisting her short hair into two short braids. Long hair is one thing she never went back to, but she still likes her braids. Her black hair now hangs to her shoulders, the style a mix of old and new. 

Some scars never heal, but she can try to mend the worst of it. She’s never going to be able to go back to who she was. The least she can do is make the best of what she’s got.

* * *

Navarro only has two more minutes, and she can’t find Lenny. She’s running through hallways, and Goris isn’t behind her anymore, and she’s only got two minutes, that’s not enough time. The corridors twist and turn, the cold metal shiny under her feet. She can’t find Lenny, she can’t find Lenny, she can’t find him and this whole place is going to blow in a minute now, and she’s lost, so hopelessly lost.

She runs into a new hallway full of smaller cells, and she frantically searches each one, peering through the bars as the countdown ticks down. Empty, empty, empty. 

Thirty seconds left. Arcade is in one of the cells. The door doesn’t open, her keycard doesn’t work, and she only has fifteen seconds. Carla turns her back on the door and sprints for the exit, Arcade’s wailing echoing off the walls as she runs out of time-

She wakes with a gasp, almost falling off the couch. She blinks at the living room furniture. She’d sat down with the intention of waiting for them to get ready. It’s just past eight o’clock in the morning. Johnson had called and said he had an idea, something he wanted to run past her. 

The screaming and crying was not part of her dream. Upstairs, Arcade is wailing, and she can hear Judah and Johnson trying to comfort him in vain. From Carla’s vantage point on the couch, she can see Daisy in the kitchen with her hands over her ears, her shoulders shaking. 

Carla covers her ears too, sinking into the couch cushions. They had all agreed that they couldn’t lie to Arcade about what had happened. But they had also known that he wouldn’t take the news well. Besides Henry, Moreno was the closest one to him. And even though he didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what had happened to Henry, he knew enough. 

Finally, Daisy comes and sits next to Carla. Judah comes downstairs, rubbing his eyes and sitting heavily in the loveseat. Johnson is last, stopping in the kitchen first before taking the smaller couch, an unconsolable but quiet Arcade in his lap. 

“Here, eat this, sunshine,” Johnson coaxes, a banana in his hand. He shakes his head stubbornly. Johnson sighs and gives up. 

“You said you had an idea,” Carla starts. She grips the edge of the couch cushion to stop her arms from shaking. 

“I did. But we all have to agree on it. This  _ has  _ to be a unanimous decision.” 

Daisy solemnly nods. “You’re going to suggest going to the bunker and opening it. Guessing Moreno’s part of the code, if we can.”

Johnson nods. “And then blowing it up so nobody can ever misuse it.” He looks at all of them. “I know that’s a huge decision, and a final one. But if someone is trying to get into it, and is willing to hurt us to do it, I think it’s our best chance.” 

Carla sits back and crosses her arms. This isn’t her decision. She’s here to watch, and nothing else. She keeps her opinion to herself: she thinks it’s a great idea. 

“I agree,” Daisy immediately says. “We’ve never used it in the past, and I don’t see any reason why we would in the future. We can live without it.” 

Two in agreement, two undecided. Judah runs a hand through his hair. He sighs heavily. Then he throws his hands up in the air. “Why not? Maybe it’ll stop all of this. We can just forget about it, go back to our normal lives. I say yes.” 

That only leaves Arcade. Johnson talks to him quietly, trying to explain the situation best he could. Finally, he nods. 

“We’re not like that anymore,” he adds, sounding much older and wiser than he appears. “Leave the past in the past.” He gives a more confident nod. 

“Then it’s decided.” Judah turns to Carla. “We’ll go out today.”

“Do you mind if Detective Lynn comes with us?” She asks. “We can trust her. And I’d like to have someone staying outside the bunker to watch our back. She doesn’t know about the Enclave, but she’s trustworthy, and she’s got good instincts. If something happens, I’d appreciate the backup.” 

Daisy nods, slowly at first. “That’s alright, I think. It won’t matter anyways, soon enough.” She sighs, her eyes unfocusing. “None of it will matter anymore.” 

* * *

During the car ride, Carla mentally reviews her list of suspects. 

Judah. He’s driving the car, his fingers nervously tapping on the steering wheel. He’s off her suspect list. 

Johnson, sitting next to Carla, between her and Judah on the bench seat. There’s something suspicious about him suggesting to go to the bunker, right when the culprit was trying to find the code. Maybe he  _ really  _ suggested it to lure them there before betraying them. Maybe he took Moreno because he knew that the other man would never agree to the plan. Carla’s not sure. She files away her suspicions. She has no proof. 

Daisy, sitting in the backseat with Arcade and Lynn. She’s more dangerous than she appears, but would she be dangerous enough to do the things that the culprit has done? Carla decides to keep an eye on her, all the same. Really, she shouldn’t trust any of these people. Any one of them could have done it. 

The bunker is an hour north of central Vegas. They pass the glittering lights, leaving the city behind little by little, sprawling casinos and towering hotels turning into business buildings, then into houses, then into scattered dwellings, until they’re out in the desert. 

They pass a sign for a mine, then a sign warning of falling rocks, then an oddly-shaped large rock on the left side of the road. Judah stops and pulls over. He looks back at them. 

“We’re here.” 

* * *

Lynn hadn’t commented on the extraordinary amount of trust they’d placed in her. When Carla had explained the plan, she’d simply nodded and agreed to wait at the entrance to the bunker. 

The rest of them walk through a tunnel leading into a cliff face. Carla shivers. Now that they’re out of the sun, the cold is starting to hit them. She’s glad that she’s bundled up properly: a heavy winter coat, hat, scarf, gloves. She has a holster with a pistol on her hip, her coat unbuttoned so she can reach it, just in case. 

The tunnel isn’t too long, only a couple minutes of walking. It’s dark, the only light coming from the entrance. There’s a few twists and turns in the narrow passageway, then they come face-to-face with a door. The door is massive, stretching to the ceiling and taking up the whole wall. It looks thick and heavy, made of some dense metal. There’s no handle or latch, but there is a small computer terminal. The computer itself must be hooked up somewhere, maybe behind the wall. There’s one small faint light bulb hanging down, giving the space a dim light. 

“The code is six words,” Daisy reminds them. “I think I have the first word: Dear.” 

Johnson is next. “Old.” 

There’s a pause before Arcade hesitantly says, “friends? That was Henry’s word.” Another pause. “Always?” 

“I’m probably next,” Judah says. “Remember.” 

“Then Moreno is last, if we’ve got the order of the rest right.” Carla sighs. “Dear old friends, always remember. Remember what?” 

“The Enclave? Wait, no, that would be two words.” 

Judah paces the small space. “What could it be? It’s either something generic, or something so specific that anyone non-Enclave wouldn’t be able to guess it.” 

“Dear old friends, always remember…” Daisy repeats, typing it into the terminal. “We’ve got three tries before it locks us out of the system.” 

“ _ Us _ , maybe?” Johnson guesses. “Remember us?” 

A negative beep from the terminal. Back to square one. Carla thoughtfully tugs on one of her short braids. 

“What if we have the order wrong?” Judah suggests. “ _ Always _ could really go anywhere. Maybe it’s: Dear old friends, remember  _ something  _ always. Or maybe it’s: Always remember dear old friends. But then where would Moreno’s word go?” 

“Always remember  _ your  _ dear old friends?” Daisy suggests. She bites her lip and tries that combination, but it gets rejected again. Two tries down, only one to go. 

Carla closes her eyes to concentrate, focusing on the slow intake of her own breath, echoing slightly in the metal hallway. There’s a soft hum of electricity and tension in the air. It reminds her of a different underground base, and answer hits her.

“Navarro.” 

It’s barely louder than a whisper, but it stops the conversation happening around her. 

“Dear old friends,” she repeats louder, opening her eyes, the memories from three years ago flashing before her eyes before disappearing. “Always remember Navarro.” 

A quiet ding. The door to the bunker starts to slide open. There’s a faint whirr from machinery. Under that noise, Carla thinks she hears something. She turns towards the way they came, squinting through the darkness of the tunnel. 

Her hand goes to the gun at her hip, slipping it out of its holster and holding it loosely in her hand. 

“Hello?” She calls out. “Lynn?” Behind her, the others have stopped in the doorway. 

There’s someone there. A faint outline, maybe, dark and short. It stops just out of the light. It throws something into the light. A body. Lynn’s body.

Lynn is unconscious, a short gash on her forehead, her glasses broken and crooked on her face. Her body hits the concrete floor. Carla’s grip on her gun tightens. 

The figure steps into the light.

Moreno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to switch Judah and Moreno's words for this to work, fyi.
> 
> I don't think I ever explicitly mentioned this, but the year is 1955. I don't think I ever mentioned that the first fic happened in 1952, but that was the number I kept looking up for fashion references etc. 1950's "classic" culture is on the rise! Get ready for those poodle skirts! 
> 
> Also Lynn is okay, if you count having a head wound as being okay. But she'll be fine, I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: blood and injury (gunshot wounds), hostage situations, strong language, minor character death.

Carla sucks in a surprised breath. Moreno? She’s hit with an immense feeling of relief that he’s not somewhere dead or being tortured, but something squirms in her stomach. Lynn’s body is still in the corner of her eye. Her chest is moving up and down, but slowly.

“Moreno! Moreno!” Arcade runs forward before anyone can stop him. Although, judging by the faces of the other Enclave remnants, all of them are too overwhelmed by relief to be suspicious. And why would they? Their friend is safe, after they’d feared that he might be dead. They have every reason to ignore the questions that they must surely have.

Moreno, very much alive and very much unharmed, kneels and hugs Arcade. “Oh, pumpkin, I missed you too.” 

He seems so relaxed, as if he was never kidnapped at all-oh. Oh. Carla curses herself for not having seen it sooner. She sneers and raises her gun.

But Moreno is quicker. He wraps an arm around Arcade’s head, covering his ears. His other hand moves too quick for her. All thoughts of firing first are eclipsed by a loud bang and a searing pain in her left leg. 

From the shock, she collapses to the cold floor, one of her hands scraping against the concrete from trying to catch herself. Her gun skitters out of her hands and across the floor, coming to a stop against Lynn’s unconscious body. She bites back a scream, turning it into a sharp whine between her clenched teeth. The gunshot is still echoing in the small space, ringing in her ears. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Johnson gasps. “You-why’d you…”

“Ssh,” Moreno ignores him in favor of trying to comfort Arcade, who’s staring at Carla in horror. He’s trying to squirm out of Moreno’s arms, starting to realize that something is  _ very  _ wrong. “Ssh, darlin’, don’t make a fuss. Everything’s okay. Don’t worry about her.” 

“What’s going on?” Judah demands, stepping forward. “What the  _ hell  _ is going on, Moreno?” 

They don’t get it yet, don’t seem to get the gravity of the situation, what this all implies. Carla grimaces and raises her head, the pain in her leg burning and making her vision blur. “Very fucking clever, Moreno,” she spits out. “Faking your own kidnapping, that almost even fooled me.” 

The realization slowly comes to the others. 

“Sunshine,” Daisy lowly says, “get away from him.” She reaches down to her bag. 

“Mm-mm, Daisy, that’s not how we’re going to do this.” Moreno tugs Arcade to his chest, pressing the gun to his back. 

“Moreno,” Arcade whispers, pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. He shakes his head at whatever he sees here. “No, no,” he whines, pushing against Moreno’s chest, trying to wiggle away. “No,  _ no _ ,  _ no, Moreno! _ ” 

The part that turns Carla’s stomach the most is the soft smile on Moreno’s face. “Now, now, pumpkin, don’t worry.” He cradles the back of Arcade’s head and presses it into his shoulder. He moves the gun there, pressing the hot barrel into his soft blond hair. His other arm goes around Arcade’s waist, pinning him in place. “Just don’t move, darlin’. Don’t fight me. Be a good boy. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Bullshit,” Carla snarls.

“Fine. Not if I don’t have to, but that’s not really up to me, is it?” He glares up at Daisy. “Put your guns down on the floor, all of you, and we can all have a nice civil conversation about this. Don’t make me do something we’ll all regret.” 

Daisy and Johnson look to Judah. He nods, his face stony. “Do as he says.” They slowly place their weapons on the floor. Carla takes off her scarf, ignoring the way Moreno stiffens at her movement. She only wraps it around her bleeding leg, her hands shaking from a mixture of shock and adrenaline. But she’s had worse before, and her voice is relatively steady. 

“How did you do it? How did you kill Henry?” She asks, tying the fabric tightly and wincing. She needs to keep pressure on her wound to slow the bleeding.

“It wasn’t too tough,” Moreno brags, his tone altogether too light to be talking about killing one of his friends. He shifts to sit cross-legged, pulling Arcade into his lap and keeping the gun against his head. “I told him we had to run a quick errand, and I drove him out to the desert. I hired a couple of guys to keep watch over him until he told me what I wanted to know. Then I just hung out at home.” His face contorts into a frown. “Those idiots accidentally went too far and killed Henry, though, so I left his body on our doorstep as a warning.” He shrugs. “Then I gave up on trying to get the password. With you two involved,” he gives Carla and the still unconscious Lynn a glare, “I couldn’t risk it. Henry knew damn well what he was doing when he put that clause in his will about having you investigate.” 

“Until you found out that Henry’s word wasn’t lost after all.” 

He smiles coldly. “That’s right. After that, I reformed my plan. Everyone needed to go at the same time, but I needed to cover my own tracks in case it all went wrong. So poor,  _ poor _ Moreno got taken first.” 

“You-you  _ asshole _ ,” Johnson hisses, his voice wavering. “We were  _ worried  _ about you.” 

“You would have what,  _ tortured  _ your friends?” Daisy challenges. “What the  _ fuck _ , Moreno. We trusted you. I thought we were all together in this.” 

Carla grits her teeth. Her leg is throbbing, but the bleeding is starting to slow. “No, he wouldn’t have had to hurt any of you. Just a  _ kid _ , because he’s  _ real  _ brave and good, and he knows how to manipulate like a goddamn politician.” 

“Too damn smart, Detective. Except you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t even have to do that.” He adjusts his grip on his pistol, pressing it a little harder against Arcade’s head. “Just the threat would be enough.” 

“We made a  _ promise _ to the Gannons,” Judah interjects. He looks like he badly wants to pace, but is restraining himself, his hands curled into fists. “And you broke that promise, Moreno. We were supposed to keep him  _ safe _ . We were supposed to give him a good life.” 

Moreno barks out a bitter laugh. “And what do you think I’m trying to do?” 

“Well, you’re currently holding a gun to his head, so  _ excuse us _ for doubting you,” Carla retorts. “How about you explain, then. Tell us all your grand plan that involved violently killing his father figure, and definitely would have included kidnapping him and probably hurting him. Go ahead and tell us how that was supposed to help him.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lynn’s head move, just a little bit. Her eyelids flicker, but stay shut. She’s waking up, but slowly. 

“Do you know what’s inside there,  _ Detective _ ?” Moreno asks. “What’s inside that bunker? There’s so much, and we’ve let it all go to waste. Let it rot for years and years.” 

Judah frowns. “So your plan was to rebuild the Enclave.” 

Carla’s eyes drift over to Lynn, whose breathing has quickened to a normal pace. Her eyes are still shut, but her fingers are twitching, as if reaching for something. The gun, Carla realizes. When Moreno shot her, she dropped her gun, and it landed right next to Lynn. She needs to buy Lynn some time to properly wake up and get her bearings, all without attracting attention. 

“Rebuild the Enclave? Have you gone off your rocker, Judah? No, I thought maybe we could make something better for ourselves. Get some people together, people we can trust and manipulate.” Moreno sounds so smug and it’s driving Carla up the wall. “Use our resources to our advantage. I wanted to propose the idea to you a long time ago, but I was pretty sure you’d never accept it. So I asked Henry first. I thought he’d agree with me for sure.” 

Lynn’s at an angle where Moreno can’t see her eyes open, but Carla can. She can’t risk making eye contact, but her eyes flicker over to hers for just a second, letting Lynn know that she notices. Lynn stays still, slowly taking in the situation, her green eyes half-lidded. But she’s never going to be able to grab the gun and get a shot off if their current hostage situation persists. 

What they need is a distraction. 

Moreno is still monologuing. “And now you’ve opened up the bunker for me! Perfect, now we can all put our plan into action. If you agree with me, of course. Otherwise, well,” he shrugs. “Now that I know the passphrase, I don’t need all of you.” 

“How  _ could  _ you even  _ think  _ of something like this?” Johnson asks, his voice shaking, one hand over his mouth in horror.

“It was easy,” Carla cuts in, relishing the way Moreno glares at her. Good. She needs to get him angry enough at her to try and shoot her again. That split second will give Lynn all the time she needs. “He never cared about you at all. Not Arcade, not Judah, not any of this. Only himself.” 

He snarls. “Wrong, Detective. It turns out you’re a fucking idiot after all. I did this all-” 

“To make a better life, yada yada. I call bullshit, Moreno. You’re just a coward, clinging to something that died years ago. Move the fuck  _ on _ .” 

Behind Carla, the other Enclave remnants are silent, not quite sure what to make of her new line of questioning. But Arcade looks up, wincing as the barrel of Moreno’s gun digs into his hair. He glances over at her, his eyes widening. He knows  _ exactly  _ what she’s doing, because he’s seen her do it before, back when she talked a suicidal police officer down from blowing up a library, three years ago. 

“Shut up!” Moreno snaps. “You call all of this shit  _ moving on _ ? Working a nine to five, getting a shitty car, trying and failing and trying again, knowing that the key to all of our potential success is sitting pretty in a bunker somewhere while we rot away leading  _ mundane  _ lives?” 

She barks out a laugh. “Wow, what the  _ fuck,  _ Moreno. Were you really having that much fun in the Enclave, mowing down innocent people and kidnapping citizens for your sick experiments, that you really miss that? You really hate living a happy life so much that you have to twist it into some nightmarish hellscape that only murdering your friends will get you out of?” She leans forward. “Tell me, did Henry realize how pathetic you are? Before you killed him, did you see that flicker of disappointment and disgust in his eyes? Did you realize that he was a braver man than you could ever be, that he was willing to give up his life just to stop your sick shitty plan-”

_ “Shut up!”  _ His arm snaps up to point his gun at her. 

A loud bang deafens her, then another. She dives to the side, landing heavy on her shoulder. She grabs her arm and groans. It burns, blood pooling between her fingers. 

Did it work?

She opens her eyes, ignoring the sting of tears from the pain. She looks down at her arm first. Blood is dripping down and onto the concrete floor, but it seems like the bullet only grazed her. Next, she looks forward, half in shock, her head starting to throb from the blood loss. 

Moreno is dead. That much is clear. 

“Oh my God,” Judah gasps, his voice raspy. He walks over to Moreno’s corpse and kneels. He seems at a loss for what to do.

“I’m sorry,” Lynn whispers. She winces and holds her head, poking at the wound there. “I’m sorry, it was the only option.” She looks over at Arcade, who has his arms wrapped around himself, blood soaking his hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You did what you had to.” Daisy walks over too and picks up Arcade, cradling him against her chest. 

Johnson is at Carla’s side now, a hand under her elbow helping pull her to her feet. “Come on, we can talk about this later. I’m still in shock from all this, I think,” his eyes are dull and his voice hollow. “But Carla needs a hospital, Lynn probably too.”

“And the bunker?” Judah asks. He reaches out and closes Moreno’s glassy eyes.

“Close it.” Arcade murmurs, almost too quiet to hear. Carla’s ears are still faintly ringing. “Leave it alone. Move on.” 

The three adult former Enclave members look at each other. Daisy walks to the terminal and hits a button, and the large bunker door starts to close with a scraping of metal. They watch it close. None of them say a word until, with a quiet ding, the door seals shut once more, never to be opened again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too obvious that he did it, I tried to throw the story off while still leaving clues that would point to him being the culprit. 
> 
> Next chapter is just an epilogue. I hope you enjoyed reading this!


	10. Epilogue

When Carla wakes in the hospital, the first thing she sees is Marcus glaring at her, his arms crossed. 

“What?” She defensively asks. She takes in her situation: in a hospital bed with her wounds bandaged. Nothing hurts, so she’s probably on some painkillers.

Marcus sighs. “You need to stop getting shot. I just had to stop Goris and Lenny from leaving San Francisco in the middle of the day. They were both about to fly up here. They want you to call as soon as you can, by the way.” He leans forward with his elbow on her bed. “Can I assume that this is the last of our secret organization-related problems?”

She clears her throat. “Yes. Case is closed. Culprit has been taken care of.” She looks around. “Is Lynn alright?” 

“Yes, she’s fine. Nothing a little bed rest couldn’t fix. She’ll be around, and she’s already volunteered to drive you anywhere you want.” He reaches for her bedside table to hand her a glass of water, drawing her attention to it. There’s a vase of flowers and a few cards. 

One card has a cartoon boxer with a black eye and the words: “On the ropes, eh?” The inside reads: “Get well soon!” It’s signed with Lynn’s name. The card makes Carla giggle at the reference to her underground career. 

There’s a crayon drawing next to that, and she has to turn it around a few times before she thinks she understands it. There’s a big monster on one side. A stick figure that is most likely Carla is in the middle with a sword in its hands. She turns it over, slightly confused. 

“Arcade drew it,” Marcus explains. “He wanted to stay until you woke up, but they managed to get him back home. He drew this before he left. That’s supposed to be a dragon on the left, there.” 

Carla nods, then places the drawing back on the table. She yawns. 

“Go back to sleep,” Marcus says, patting her hand. “You’ve been through a lot. Now it’s time to recuperate. Take some time, relax. Go see a show or something, you’re in Vegas after all.” 

* * *

The house seems emptier, colder.

She’s seen the remaining Enclave remnants a few times in the last two weeks, but she hasn’t been back to the house. Lynn helps her limp through the doorway. She’s still on crutches, and will be for a while, according to the doctors. Her leg wound was worse than her arm. Just another scar on top of many others. She’ll be fine to go back to San Francisco in another week, and she wanted to say goodbye. 

It’s almost nice to talk to them now that there’s no case weighing her down. Still, there’s a gap where Henry and Moreno should be, a conscious absence. At the end of her visit, she feels drained, emotionally and physically. 

She grabs Judah as she’s leaving. She waves Lynn to go on and start the car, leaving them alone in the doorway. 

“Here.” She slips Judah a business card. “He’s sworn to secrecy, and he specializes in traumatic police cases.” 

He skims the card, then tucks it into a pocket. “Thank you.” 

Carla lowers her voice. “He treats adults too. I know this has been hard for all of you.” 

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Take care of yourself too, Carla. I know that this case has brought a lot of things up that you probably wished to forget. Take care.” 

She smiles. “You too.”  _ I never want to see you again _ , she doesn’t say. But that wouldn’t give the right impression. It’s not that she hates these people, it’s that she would love for them to live normal lives, and for her to never have to be involved with them ever again. 

Some things are better left buried. She knows that better than anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Get Well card is actually based of a real 1950's card referencing boxing, and I thought it was too great not to include.


End file.
